


(un)touched

by Anatui



Category: Digimon - All Media Types, Digimon Adventure Zero Two | Digimon Adventure 02, Digimon Adventure: Last Evolution Kizuna - Fandom
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Begging, College/University, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Graphic Description, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Rimming, Self-Hatred, Sexual Coercion, Stripping, Teacher-Student Relationship, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:48:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27243712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anatui/pseuds/Anatui
Summary: Panting, knuckles turning white, Ken tried not to react, tried not to even think about it.He wanted to melt into the safest places of his mind, pretend none of this was happening. He wanted to pretend it was Daisuke touching him, Daisuke causing these reactions.But it wasn't.ORAfter being attacked by his professor, Ken seeks comfort in Daisuke's arms.
Relationships: Ichijouji Ken/Motomiya Daisuke | Davis Motomiya
Comments: 7
Kudos: 25
Collections: Ana Writes Semi-Angsty Porn 2020, Ana's 2020 Writing Challenge, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Daiken Discord Server





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently I'm having way too much fun with the non-con right now...sorry?
> 
> This was written for the [Bad Things Happen Bingo on Tumblr](https://badthingshappenbingo.tumblr.com/) for the prompt: Non-Consensual Touching

"Have a seat, Ichijouji-san."

Ken did as he was told, sliding into the seat across from Ootake's and setting his book bag in the open chair beside him, feeling strangely naked without Wormmon at his side. But his sensei had insisted this meeting needed to be without his Digimon partner, and it was hardly his place to argue with his professor.

Instead, Wormmon had gone with Daisuke and V-mon to the ramen shop for the afternoon, where he would, of course, be perfectly behaved. Better behaved than V-mon ever was while there, though Tsukuda was thankfully quite fond of the dragon Digimon.

"Anything to drink? Water? A cup of matcha perhaps?"

"Matcha would be lovely. Thank you, Sensei."

The door slid shut.

The lock clicked into place.

"I wouldn't want us to be interrupted," Ootake said as he moved to pour from his deep-red earthenware teapot. He handed the matching cup to Ken, filled with frothy green tea, then poured out another.

"Thank you," Ken murmured, pulling the cup close and smelling the matcha, but something in his stomach coiled uncomfortably.

Ootake, his own cup in hand, came close and leaned on the edge of his desk with a half-smile, the lights glinting off his oval glasses. "Thank you for clearing your schedule, Ichijouji-san. I know you're quite busy saving the world and all, so I appreciate you taking the time to meet with me."

"Of course, Sensei." Ken smiled, his hands clutching the cup tight. "What did you want to discuss?"

His professor took a slow sip of his tea, then set the steaming cup on the desk nearby to lean forward, too close. "You've actually been so busy you've missed quite a few classes, Ichijouji-san. You make up your assignments, of course, but I'm worried your grade will suffer at this rate." He cocked his head, a chagrined smile tugging at his thin lips. "You're very intelligent, but even intelligent people make stupid mistakes…Ken-chan."

Ken swallowed, the coiling feeling in his stomach twisting and tightening.

Ootake must have heard Wormmon call him that, must have committed it to memory and saved it for a moment like this.

"What do you propose?" Ken asked in a tiny voice.

He knew what was coming long before the words left his professor's mouth.

This was hardly the first time he'd been propositioned, let alone by someone in a position of power. Most of them tried to be discreet about it, especially when he was still a child, and that had given him an easy out, a way to brush it off and let them both save face.

It wouldn't be so easy now.

Ootake leaned close enough to run his thumb over Ken's chin, a soft smile spreading across his face. "Just this…" He pulled back just enough they weren't touching. "I enjoy our quiet discussions, and really, where you'll suffer is _participation_. If you join me in my office a couple times a week, discuss environmental psychology with me, just the two of us, I'll count our meetings toward your grade."

Ken bit his lip and dropped his gaze, stared down at the frothy matcha shaking in his trembling hands. "What if I don't have time?" he asked.

His professor let out a low sigh, his breath rustling Ken's dark hair. "With how much class you've missed already, I'm afraid I can't guarantee you'll pass."

Yes, that's about what he'd expected.

Despite the fact that he was sure he was still well within the acceptable range of missed classes.

He had read his syllabus quite carefully, and the beauty of working together as the Chosen Children, as a team, meant that he could opt out of helping when necessary—like, say, when he had class.

But Ootake-sensei was the one with control over the gradebook here. That's what those words really meant.

"Well," Ken said, keeping his eyes on the teacup, "I'm here already."

Ootake let out a short amused laugh. "The other day, we discussed attention," he said, pulling back to grab his cup for another sip, giving Ken space to breathe. "There are two types of stimuli, of course—"

"Those that _demand_ our attention," Ken said, slowly looking up.

His sensei nodded, a tiny smile on his lips, and set down his drink again. "And those that we _willingly_ and _eagerly_ devote our attention to." His dark brown eyes traced up and down Ken's form, his mouth twisted to the side. "Take off your jacket and get comfortable. I fear the meeting may run long…"

Ken took a slow breath that burned his lungs before he lifted his cup enough that Ootake took it from his grasp and nodded toward his top.

The blazer came off easily enough, leaving Ken in just a tight dark-gray V-neck that held him feeling more naked than it normally would. Especially when Ootake set Ken's teacup next to his own before taking the blazer and turning away to stow it out of the way, out of Ken's reach.

He returned at a leisurely pace and slid back into his spot on his desk, extending his long legs, one foot sliding between Ken's. "What kind of stimulus do _you_ willingly and eagerly devote your attention to, Ken-chan?" he asked in a low voice.

"Not the kind of stimulus that demands my attention," he said, his eyes narrowing as he looked up.

Ootake smiled. "No, I wouldn't imagine so." A soft chuckle fell from his lips. "But you can learn as well as anyone. Probably better."

"And what should I learn from this, sensei?"

The foot slotted between his nudged his knees apart, spreading his legs wide. "How to respond to demands. Obedience. And _participation_."

Ken cocked an eyebrow but didn't speak, didn't push him away.

"Retrieve your tea," Ootake said, nodding toward their two cups, side by side.

The act required him to stand, which he imagined was the point, and he rose slowly from the chair and stepped closer to the desk, the offending foot still hooked between his legs.

As he pressed close enough to take hold of his teacup, a gentle hand pressed to his cheek and rubbed along his jaw. "That's good," Ootake said in a low rumble, then easily slid the cup farther away before Ken's fingers could grasp it, forcing him even closer.

The professor spread his legs and lay a hand on Ken's hip to guide him closer till he was all but straddling one of his sensei's thighs.

Ken tensed.

Ootake lifted his knee to graze his groin through the tight pants, and the hand clutching his hip tightened, keeping him in place.

Breath stuttering in his throat, Ken stopped keeping up the pretense of reaching for the tea. "Sensei…"

The hand on his hip slid around to squeeze his ass and pinch through the tight fabric, finger pads teasing lower and lower, drawing a gasp from Ken's lips. Hot breath grazed his ear, curled around his neck, tickling the tender skin, and the hand clutching his ass yanked him closer till he was practically riding his thigh.

"You're very pretty, Ken-chan," Ootake murmured in his ear, and he added a second hand to cup his other ass cheek. They worked together to guide him, manually rocking his hips so he rutted against that thigh. "But you have so much more to learn about _participation_ …"

Ken gasped as the rolling pressure drew a reaction from his body despite the cold fear coursing through his veins.

He was getting hard.

Two fingers stretched out to tease the point right between his legs. "Has anyone ever touched you here before?"

He clamped his eyes shut, didn't want to answer, but his professor laughed.

"Good." Ootake continued working him against his thigh, squeezing and teasing his ass until his erection was at full force. "That's very good, Ken-chan. Now undo your pants…unless you don't want your participation points?"

His fingers shook as he struggled with the button, shook so hard he couldn't pull it open.

The professor chuckled in his ear. "If you need help, you have to ask."

Ken swallowed, tugging at the button again and again, a whimper caught in his throat.

He didn't want the help, didn't want the touches, but this would go so much faster, so much easier, if he did as he was told, if he asked nicely. Maybe then the touches wouldn't hurt.

"P-p-please help?"

Ootake hummed pleasantly. "Please help with what?"

He licked his lips and gasped out, "Take them off…"

"As you wish."

His large hands slipped the button free, then the next and the next until he could guide the tight pants over his ass, down his hips, and just past his knees. The underwear mostly stayed in place, though one side had been dragged down, revealing a smooth patch of sensitive skin at his hip.

Ken whimpered, letting the relief of being freed from his pants wash over him.

It didn't last long.

Ootake gripped him through his underwear, tight and firm and without regard for what it did to him.

A sharp gasp flew from Ken's lips. His hands fumbled to grab the edge of the desk for support as his professor tugged him closer, till he could feel the pulsing erection through his sensei's slacks.

Panting, knuckles turning white, Ken tried not to react, tried not to even think about it.

He wanted to melt into the safest places of his mind, pretend none of this was happening. He wanted to pretend it was Daisuke touching him, Daisuke causing these reactions, Daisuke making him moan.

But it wasn't.

He bit his lip till he could taste blood to stop himself from crying out.

Ootake shoved two fingers into his mouth. "Suck."

It took Ken a minute to register the intrusion, to decipher the taste of ink and paper on those fingers, but he did as he was told and sucked hard on those fingers instead of trying to spit them out, sucked till his professor let out a guttural moan and bucked his hips against him.

The fingers pulled out with a pop, and Ken heaved, out of breath.

The next thing he knew, his sensei's hand was sliding beneath his underwear and between his cheeks to tease him, circling it with his slick fingers, spreading his own saliva over his entrance.

"You know," Ootake whispered in his ear, sending shivers down his spine, "I didn't expect to be the first person to touch you here."

A finger dipped inside, twisting and curling and thrusting into him quickly.

Ken keened and cried, hands clenching on the desk, tears stinging his eyes, as Ootake spread him a little and pushed another inside long before he was ready. The second finger ached and burned, especially when they began to work him open, faster and faster.

The tears fell.

"Touch me," Ootake growled, and he bit down on the crook of Ken's neck. "You have to earn your grades, Ken-chan."

Ken trembled as he pried his hand free of the desk and reached for the bulge in his sensei's pants. Everything quivered and shook as those strong fingers pumped into him, steady and rough and deeper with every thrust.

"I'm going to enjoy being the first person to come inside you…" Ootake mumbled before leaning in to capture his mouth.

Ken tore backward, shuddering as pain shot through him at the sudden separation. "I have to go," he gasped, yanking his pants back up and fastening them in one solid motion. Faster than he'd ever done before.

"Ichijouji!"

But Ken barely heard him as he untwisted the lock and bolted out of his office.

*

The vibrations, the constant hum of the train kept him from relaxing.

He fiddled his fingers along the railing, grip tightening and loosening and tightening again. A dull ache in his chest pressed against his pounding heart, his ribs constricting with each desperate gasp for air.

If there were other people on the train, he didn't see them, didn't notice them, couldn't register anything beyond his seat and the railing and his shaking hands.

He'd left his book bag in Ootake's office.

His blazer too.

Probably would've left his smartphone Digivice if it weren't stuffed so deep in his left pocket, digging into his hip bone from its shifted position.

His stomach bubbled, painful and sharp and overwhelming. His hands clenched around the railing, trying to ground him to that point, to quell the nausea before he vomited in the middle of the monorail.

When the train came to a stop, it took him a moment to register the announcement declaring the station name.

He had to pry his hands from the railing, force his legs to move.

The doors started to close as he clambered onto the platform.

He stumbled through the station.

Along the sidewalk.

Through the shop doors.

The ramen shop bustled with people, twirling and curving and teeming around him, but his eyes couldn't focus.

He couldn't see.

Or breathe.

"Ken?!"

"What's wrong with Ken?"

"Ken-chan, talk to me…"

His eyes stung as more tears gathered in the corners and pooled over the edges.

An arm wrapped around his shoulders, but he shied away. "Hey, hey, it's me, it's okay." A warm hand pressed over his heart, the heat permeating his tight shirt. "I've got you. Don't worry, I've got you…"

They were on the train again.

Then, his family's apartment.

Then, curled up in bed, Daisuke, still in his uniform, wrapping around him and holding his hand to his heart and asking him to mimic his breathing, the Digimon piled around them.

He gasped for air, tried to calm his heart, tried to focus on Daisuke, Daisuke, Daisuke…

"You gonna tell me what that was about?" Daisuke asked after a long while, petting his hair.

Ken took a long breath, leaned into him.

"You with me?"

He gave a short nod and said, "Daisuke, will you…?"

"Huh?"

Ken couldn't look at him, but he couldn't look away either. "Will you touch me? I want to feel you inside me…"

Daisuke gulped.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I...did not _intend_ for there to be more non-con in this, but it just kind of happened. I decided to split it up and add one more chapter so it flows better.
> 
> Anyway, if deliberately creepy and graphic non-con isn't your thing, skip the entire second scene. lol  
> But also...why are you reading this?

For a long while, Daisuke wouldn't look at him, but Ken could see the thoughts flashing across his face.

"You're scared," Daisuke finally said, still not looking at him.

Ken didn't know how to respond to that.

Any denial would be a blatant lie—one Daisuke would see through immediately—and admission would hardly convince him either.

Daisuke chewed his lip, glanced at him, then glanced away. "You're scared, but you want to…do that?"

He sighed, letting his eyes fall shut. "Yes."

"Are you going to tell me what made you freak out?"

Ken swallowed and clenched his eyes.

He didn't want to tell Daisuke what happened, didn't want to explain the painful touches he desperately wanted to erase.

He didn't want to even think about them.

"Do I have to?" he mumbled.

Daisuke sighed and shifted on the bed, turned to face him. "Of course you don't have to," he said, his voice softer, and he pressed a gentle hand to Ken's chest. "But if I don't know what's wrong, I can't help."

A soft laugh fell from Ken's lips, and he forced himself to meet Daisuke's eyes. "I told you…" He took hold of those gentle fingers and guided them down to his waist. "Touch me."

Daisuke's intense chocolate orbs stared.

And Ken knew that he knew.

If anyone could read him, if anyone could see deep down to his soul, it was Daisuke.

"Will that help?" Daisuke murmured.

Yes.

No.

"I don't know," he said, finally looking away. "But I don't want him to be the last person who touched me."

Maybe, if Daisuke touched him, he wouldn't feel so dirty.

With a sigh, Daisuke pulled him closer and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek. "I'm not going to touch you," he murmured into Ken's ear. "Not like that. Not right now."

Ken started shaking, his entire body quivering at the denial. "Why don't you want me?"

Soft kisses trailed over the top of his head. "Ken, I always want you," he said, kind and gentle and loving. "I've always wanted you. But I don't want our first time to happen like this. It shouldn't be because of someone else or because of something like this."

Sobs racked Ken's body at the denial, at the rejection, and Daisuke held him through it. He kept him close in his arms, ran a gentle hand down up and down his back to soothe his trembling form. He kissed him and held him and murmured sweet affections in his ear until Ken finally calmed, no longer shaking, no longer gasping for air, no longer panicking.

He stayed silent as Daisuke buried his face in his hair and whispered how much he loved him, unable to acknowledge or reciprocate the affection.

He did reciprocate.

Of course he did.

He'd loved Daisuke since their hearts and souls had aligned, since they'd felt each other so deep in their very beings the connection was undeniable.

But all Ken could do was replay the meeting in his sensei's office, wonder how things could have gone differently, think about the fact that he still needed to retrieve his bookbag and his blazer. He'd left them behind in his escape, left things unfinished.

Whatever happened, he needed to go back. He needed to finish it.

*

When he knocked on Ootake's office door the following afternoon, nausea pooled in his stomach, rendering him unable to speak the moment his professor looked up and met his gaze, an unimpressed look in his dark eyes.

"Ah, excellent, Ichijouji-san," Ootake said, nodding toward the door. "Shut the door please. I'd like to finish our discussion from yesterday."

Ken opened his mouth, but he couldn't speak, couldn't articulate the words he needed to say to make this go away, to get his things back and make Ootake leave him alone. He wanted to Ootake to leave him alone, to not do anything to him anymore, to just be his professor again and not what he'd become—a fear, a nightmare, the embodiment of his own shame and insecurity and self-hatred.

He shut the door, but still he didn't speak or move.

"Very good…Ken-chan," Ootake said, a playful sound to his voice, and he nodded him toward the desk.

There were papers and books and notes all over the wooden desk, but Ken shuffled over, uncertain and terrified and wondering why he'd decided to come here again. Ootake's hands found his hips and guided him even closer, till his thighs hit the hard edge.

When his professor moved behind him, blocking him in, those greedy hands found his waist, slowly undoing the belt, then the button and zipper, and it was just like last time, completely out of his control.

The slacks were pushed down, along with his tight boxer briefs, and he was open and exposed and—

And he was being bent over the desk, flattened against the books and papers, unable to complain about the sharp edges digging into his abdomen. It's not like he'd notice that in a minute.

"Did you really think coming back here would end any differently? Are your jacket and your bag this important, Ken-chan?"

Ken whimpered, the sounds muffled against the desk.

The sound of a zipper echoed through the quiet room, and Ootake's hands on his hips shifted just a bit lower.

Then, something hot and wet swept over his entrance, and tears pricked Ken's eyes. He'd known this would end badly—that's exactly why he hadn't told Daisuke his plans, hadn't told Wormmon—but he'd come anyway.

Ootake's wet tongue dipped inside his entrance, circling the ring, stretching it just a little.

One finger, then another, quickly joined the tongue.

Ken gasped into the papers under his face, whimpering and wishing Daisuke were here, wishing Daisuke would save him.

The two fingers thrust inside, rough and hard, tearing into him, until the papers underneath him were wrinkled and stained with tears. Ootake wasn't gentle in the slightest, didn't hold back or refrain; he drilled those two fingers in until Ken's sobs were nothing more than desperate gasps for air he couldn't seem to catch.

And then the tongue was back, fucking into him, slick saliva sliding in with the fingers, pushing inside him.

Ken's fingers tightened on the edge of the desk, knuckles painfully white, as the tongue retracted and a third finger forced its way inside. And as those fingers fucked him, harder and harder with each thrust, all Ken could do was cling to the desk, uncomfortably tense.

It wasn't until Ootake's other hand wrapped around him that Ken realized the ugly truth.

He was hard.

He was enjoying this.

He wanted his sensei's fingers inside him, wanted his sensei's cock inside him too. He wanted his sensei to ignore his sobs and his pain and his fear and fuck him right here in his office, only twenty meters from where he taught Ken's class tomorrow afternoon.

"Oh, Ken-chan," Ootake moaned as he stroked him, tight and firm and completely unignorable. "You can't hide this from me. You love the feeling of having me inside you."

He twisted his fingers and his thrusts turned rougher, sharper, faster, and Ken sobbed and keened into the papers.

It felt so painfully _good_ , and he hated himself for the way his body responded, pleasure building and coiling in his abdomen. He moaned in time with the thrusts and strokes, tears streaming down his face, and rocked his hips with the movement, too caught up in the need to come to stop himself.

"That's right," Sensei praised. "Let me hear how much you want this, Ken-chan."

A sharp gasping moan tumbled from his mouth at a particularly rough thrust. He was about to come, so fucking ready to come, to end this blissful agony so he could curl up in a ball and hate Ootake, hate everything, hate himself.

Ootake pulled away abruptly, tore his fingers out and released him all at once, and a whine shot from Ken's lips at the loss.

He was so close. Too close to release.

"Beg," his professor commanded. "Beg for me, Ken-chan."

Ken whimpered, the word "Please" coming out small and pitiful. "Please, Sensei, let me come…"

All too suddenly, Ootake's cock pressed against his entrance, and he said, "Good boy," as he pushed inside.

Trembling, squirming against the sudden sharp pain of being stretched too far, too much at once, Ken could only weep, unable to speak, unable to even make a sound as his sensei delved deep inside him.

He was so achingly hard, so ready to come, and then Ootake hit something that felt so good a long gurgling moan tumbled from his lips.

Ootake took that as a good sign, grabbed his hips tight as he withdrew slowly then thrust in hard. He fucked into him again and again, hitting that spot over and over and over until Ken's moans were so loud he was sure all of campus could hear him and he was coming so hard his vision turned white.

When he came to, his own come was dripping down his legs, and his professor was happily taking advantage of how boneless and loose he was, fucking him harder and faster with each deep thrust. Ken was so soft and limp, but the pleasure was already building in him again.

He hated this.

He tried to stifle his weak moans, but he didn't have the energy.

He'd come back here. He'd chosen to come back here knowing this would happen, knowing his professor would corner him, use him, take and take and take till he had nothing left to give.

Yet, he'd come back.

He must've wanted this. Deserved this. He hated himself for wanting this, but why else would he come back here? Why else would he put himself through this? Why else would he beg his sensei to make him come like that?

Fuck, it felt so good, made him moan over and over, felt like he might come again, but he had nothing left to give.

When Ootake finally released inside him, Ken could feel it. His professor's fingertips gripped him so hard he'd bruise, and he held him deep, completely still and so very deep Ken could feel his come seep into every crevice, permeate his body and contaminate him.

He was dirty. He was broken and dirty and only meant for things like this. He was meant to be used and abused, not held and cherished and _loved_ like Daisuke claimed.

This was what he deserved.

Ootake moved about the room, but Ken could only cling to the desk, even as a cool fabric was tossed over his face. It took a moment to register it was his blazer, the one he'd left behind last time.

"Come by again next Thursday," his professor said, as if he hadn't just fucked him stupid, as if the result of that fucking wasn't leaking down the back of his thighs. "We can discuss your grades again then."

It was a dismissal.

He needed to leave.

It took considerable effort to push up from the desk, to pull his pants back up and tug on his blazer. His bookbag was waiting for him on one of the guest chairs, and he grabbed it before leaving the room—Ootake hadn't even locked it this time.

Ken didn't want anyone to see him, not like this, so he located the nearest campus computer to open a Digital Gate and made his way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last part will be 100% soft daiken...okay, probably more like 75% soft daiken and 25% "plot" (Daisuke being the Best Boyfriend™)


End file.
